


All I want for Christmas is you

by haku23



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky gets hurt a few days before Christmas and Steve spends his Christmas Eve sitting in the cold on watch without him. Luckily the Commandos aren't about to see their Captain wallowing in self-pity on Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I want for Christmas is you

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme except that I fixed a couple of mistakes...

The year had been hard. Full of never-ending fighting, cold nights in trenches, and Steve had experienced it all enough times as a kid for the cold and hunger to feel like an old friend but that didn't make it any easier. With the serum he burned through more calories just sitting around shivering in the muck in three hours than the Commandos did all day-he never complained though. They had it just as bad as he did and besides that he'd never hear the end of it if he called the weather anything other than “a little bit chilly”. So yeah, Steve was used to that. He was also used to the ache in his chest that came with his body ejecting a bullet from the very wound it'd come in from. It'd barely missed his heart-Bucky hadn't been so lucky though a through and through shot was better than the thing being lodged inside him. The medics had whisked him away immediately after the Commandos had dragged their sorry carcasses back to camp. Bucky'd sworn a blue streak and generally carried on that he didn't need any god damn doctor up until the moment he'd passed out from blood loss of course. That'd been yesterday-the day before yesterday now-and they hadn't let him see him. There was a shortage of doctors this far out and he had a feeling that his size didn't help their decision to keep him from Bucky's bedside. No one wanted to be the one to tell Captain America that his friend hadn't made it after all. Dum Dum had said they'd probably let him in once they had Bucky stable and then gone to drink with the others leaving Steve to sit in his tent alone. That'd been the day before yesterday too. No news since then.

 

The calender in his head ticked over from December 24th to December 25th as he kept watch with Morita. They were both bundled in their cold weather gear and blowing puffs of white air that could have been cigarette smoke if they had any matches.

 

He clenched his hands into fists despite his gloves creaking in protest. If he'd just been there, moved faster then Bucky wouldn't be lying in the infirmary with a bullet in his chest. Bucky would of course tell him he was being stupid, blaming himself but if their situations were reversed Bucky would be doing the same thing. The horizon was clear of course, most people-HYDRA or not-weren't daring to brave the cold. Morita passed him a flask though it wouldn't have much effect other than a psychological one.

 

“Quit hoggin' it.”

 

Steve blinked realizing he'd spent the better part of ten minutes just holding the canister of cheap booze in his hand without drinking. He took a quick swig before passing it back. Bucky had always had his back and he'd be a liar if he said that his guilt wasn't partially based on that. The serum was supposed to make it so that Bucky wouldn't have to lay on the wire anymore. Steve was supposed to be able to take care of himself now. Fixed. He was supposed to be fixed.

 

It wasn't that the others hadn't saved his skin more than a couple of times because they were a team and that sort of thing kind of came with the territory it was just Bucky that was the problem. They had history, Steve was in debt to him for all that he knew he shouldn't think that and for all he liked the other Commandos they weren't Bucky. They weren't only his. His mind wandered for awhile, thinking of ways he could improve their tactics and then suddenly stuck like an ant in honey to the fact that Bucky'd gone and taken a bullet for him. It wasn't as if they hadn't gotten themselves into situations before where they'd both dragged their asses back home with bloodied lips and blackened eyes but those had just been childish scraps. Fighting with kids they had no business taking on with just the pair of them. They'd never been in any real danger and Steve didn't force Bucky to join up but sometimes it felt like he did. If he hadn't made such a big deal of wanting to sign up maybe Bucky wouldn't have gotten the idea in his head. Of course he might've been drafted anyhow but if Steve hadn't ran his mouth off about patriotism maybe Bucky would've stayed home, found work somewhere else like the rest of them. Steve knew it was selfish. Hell, Bucky'd probably done it for the uniform and girls, not to serve his country but it didn't make him any less hurt now. Didn't erase the scars left from Zola's lab that Bucky guarded more fiercely than an alley cat did its territory. If Bucky died because of him, for him...

 

“You wanna play cards?”

 

He smiled, “nah. We should keep an eye out.”

 

Morita shrugged and he wasn't suggesting they slack off because he was bored. Anyone could see there wasn't a chance of anyone coming across their camp this far out with the weather like it was. His mind wandered. Went back to the other Christmases he'd spent with Bucky. Shivering under threadbare blankets, starving and knowing that while other kids would be having some semblance of a feast tomorrow that they'd be holed up in the room they shared with 20 other boys waiting for the weather to improve so they could go out and whip snowballs at each other. They hadn't had money to get each other presents and even now he didn't much care if he got anything except continued health but Bucky always managed to scrounge up something for him. As if he weren't the younger one who should still believe in Christmas time miracles. Before that there'd been his mother trying to make ends meet, handing over a new eraser and pencil that'd been wrapped in brown paper on Christmas while his father went out and drank away his pay. After that had been his father dead in a ditch, his mother gradually getting sicker and sicker until she finally slipped away. The holidays spent with Bucky had been the best ones since his mother had passed away and he had to take to pacing the length of their camp with Morita in tow to keep from thinking that he wouldn't have that anymore if Bucky died. No more huddling together for warmth, no more pulling Bucky away from bothering some poor dame alone on Christmas. He loved Peggy, no question about it, he loved her and losing either of them was out of the question but like the Commandos Peggy wasn't Bucky either.

 

After they'd left the orphanage-Steve taking responsibility for Bucky who wasn't near old enough to be setting out on his own just yet Bucky would go out, find some crap job to do for a few days and come home with enough food that they could eat well on Christmas and maybe have some left over for the day after. If they were lucky Steve would avoid catching cold and if they weren't they spent Christmas Eve and day squished together under the blankets of their apartment like an echo of their earlier childhood. Steve knew it wasn't much different from what the other commandos had and their company would be enough but it wouldn't be Bucky.

 

“Come on, let's head back, I'm freezin' my ass off here. Falsworth can take his turn,” Morita said with a smirk before lighting up a cigarette, having apparently found half a book of matches somewhere. They've never discussed out loud what Bucky meant to him but then, they didn't have to. Steve had never been great at lying and he could only really say 'we're just friends' a few times convincingly. The others would probably spend the night trying to get him drunk or playing Gin in an attempt to get him to stop thinking about how he'd messed up. Steve wasn't sure if he would let himself be distracted or not.

 

“Hm.”

 

He followed him back from the watch outpost on autopilot, feet crunching on the frosted ground. The conversation was a low din that abruptly cut out when Morita pulled back the flap to the mess tent. The Commandos had taken it over and he did a headcount unconsciously-everyone was accounted for. Steve headed for the coffee straightaway to try and force the cold out of his bones but stopped when everyone's eyes were focused on him like he'd missed something incredibly important.

 

Everyone was accounted for.

 

His chest felt like it was too small to contain his heart beating too quickly-he sucked in a harsh breath but it didn't ease the pressure. His eyes prickled and he set down the tin cup on the closest table to hide how his hands were shaking. He crossed the room again quickly, cold forgotten, to where the others either sat or stood and pulled Bucky against him without bothering with words. A year ago, two years ago, he would have fit perfectly under Bucky's chin but it didn't matter who was taller or bigger or stronger because Bucky was here and warm in his arms. Hurt, a little bit worse for wear but here. Alive. He could't catch his breath and if he weren't cured he would have thought he was having an asthma attack.

 

“Thought-” he blurted out, shoving his face into Bucky's shoulder and he couldn't get him close enough. They were plastered against each other and it wasn't enough.

 

“I know-”

 

“Can't do that again.”

 

“Gonna have to, idiot. Can't keep me at base all the time,” Bucky's hands are locked around his torso so tightly Steve couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. Which he didn't take exception to, really. They released their death grip on one another for a moment only to give them enough room for Steve to put his hands on either side of Bucky's face, press their foreheads together like the first time they'd moved from just kidding around to admitting something more than friendship for one another. It'd been Bucky doing the holding back then but it didn't matter.

 

Steve huffed out a breath that turned into something too close to a sob for his liking, “you gotta stay out of trouble. What'dya think you are, a super soldier?”

 

“Someone's gotta watch out for you, kid.”

 

“Thought you would-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You shouldn't be out of bed,” he ran his thumb over one of his cheekbones and Bucky wasn't as prone to grand shows of emotion as he was-which had been held over his head since they were kids-but he wasn't imagining the moisture there, “hey-”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“That's no way to talk to the guy who busted you out of the hospital,” he said and his lips turned up at the corners despite how pain had started to break through the haze of happiness that Bucky's arrival had shrouded him in.

 

“Takin' credit for another guy's work now, punk?”

 

It was then that he remembered the others who had to their credit all found something interesting about the decor while he and Bucky had put on their show. He felt his face go red almost instantaneously and stepped back out of Bucky's personal space though one of his hands grabbed his forearm,not ready to let him go completely.

 

“You heard the man,” Falsworth said around his cup, “you should be resting.”

 

“Since when do you jerks care?” Bucky levelled them with a glare that lacked any vitriol then turned to Steve again, “you takin' me away from these assholes or what?”

 

“As soon as we get you checked out.”

 

“Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?”

 

“Anyone ever tell you to shut up and listen to me?” he slung his arm around Bucky's waist as if holding him up as they headed for the door.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbled, leaning against him and letting his head fall against Steve's shoulder, “Didn't think much of the guy.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Narcissist.”

 

Steve didn't believe in Christmas miracles anymore. But he thought that maybe this was close enough to one for him. Well, at least until Bucky started complaining about being laid up in the infirmary anyway.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
